A Reasonable Facsimile
by Kethria
Summary: Takes place after Honeymoon. House ponders the situation with Stacy. Cameron resolves to get over House. Everyone just wants life and love, or at least a reasonable fascimile
1. Chapter 1

House sat at the piano, brows furrowed. What a miserable day. His stomach was aching. Hunger. The only thing he had to eat was… well nothing. The level on the bottle of scotch that sat on the mantle was slowly going down.

As his fingers graced the keyboard, the though occurred to him that at times like these the house seemed too big. It was another one of the many contradictions in his life. He wanted solitude, but at the same time he felt lonely. Christ, was this how Stacy had felt?

Stacy. He closed his eyes, and rested his forehead on the piano. "Of all the hospitals in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine. Jesus, that's horrible." He smiled ruefully. He was no Rick, and Stacy was no Ilsa. He looked at the keys again, and started to play "As Time Goes By" and thought of Cameron.

_"I thought you were to screwed up to love anyone… I was wrong… you just couldn't love me. Its good, I'm happy for you."_

He cringed slightly at the memory. When it happened, he was so caught off guard he had no response. Not that anything he could have said at the time was an appropriate.

In the middle of his reverie, there was a knock at the door. Arching his eyebrow, he looked at the clock. 8:45 pm. It was either Wilson or an ambitious Jehovah's Witness. Either way he wasn't going to answer the door. The phone rang. He let the machine answer.

"House, I'm out front with some food and a movie. Open the door." More knocking. Wilson hung up the phone.

House smiled. Good old Wilson. The one constant in his life. The knocking got louder.

"I know you're home. The car's here. Open the door." Wilson's voice, exasperated and slightly muffled, trailed off. There was the sound of a key sliding into the hole, and mumbled curses.

He smiled again, and started to play the piano. The door swung open. House didn't look up.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot. I think I got peanut sauce on my jacket." Wilson tossed a few DVD's on the couch and put a paper bag on the coffee table.

House didn't answer. He continued playing the piano. "That sounds familiar. What is it?"

Without looking over at his friend, House started to sing quietly. "Look what you've done, you've made a fool of everyone one. A fool of everyone."

Wilson sat down on the couch. "Right, that band, the one that sounds like The Beatles." He snapped his fingers.

House sighed and looked over. "Jet. Look What You've Done. I can't get one part right."

"Where's the music?" Wilson asked.

"Up here." He tapped his temple. "They play it on the radio every five minutes."

Wilson clapped. "You never cease to amaze me…"

"Right," House interjected. "Why are you here?"

Wilson looked slightly deflated. House rolled his eyes inwardly. James was the master of the puppy dog look. And damned if it didn't work every time.

"Well, Julie is out of town. And I was… lonely." Wilson looked slightly embarrassed.

"The dog didn't need company?"

"The dog has been farting lately. I think she's feeding him people food on purpose." Wilson opened the paper bag. "I got pineapple fried rice, tom kha, beef saytay…"

"Thai food?" House raised both eyebrows.

"You _like_ Thai food. And I paid for it. So no complaining." Wilson unpacked the bag, setting the take out boxes on top of magazines spread out on the coffee table.

"I already ate." House mumbled.

"Liar," Wilson surveyed the table. "Damn, be right back, I left something in the car."

"A stripper?" House said hopefully.

"Ha ha. Find us some paper plates or something." He got up and walked outside.

House got up from the piano bench slowly. His leg was throbbing. He had an earlier lapse in sanity and attempted to take a few steps without his cane. Stupid mistake. He limped over to the couch and sat down. The box of pineapple fried rice was closest to him, so he opened it up. The aroma was heavenly. A wave of hunger washed over him cramping his stomach.

He picked up plastic fork, and was about to take a bite when Wilson walked back inside, carrying a case of beer.

"Dammit. I told you to get plates." He set the beer on the floor next to the couch.

" Fine _Mom_. On top of the fridge, there's a package of chinette dishes." House muttered. He took a bite of the rice. "This it too hot to eat anyhow."

Wilson came back with a few plates, two bowls for the soup, and silverware. He set the plates down on the table, and poured half of the soup into a bowl and put it in front of House. "Hand me a beer."

House reached down and pulled a bottle out of the case. "Dos Equis? What the hell is this?"

"It's pretty good. Julie got some on sale somewhere. Your soup is getting cold." Wilson used the end of his tie to twist off the cap and took a long draught of beer.

House sniffed the soup. "Is this that coconut one?"

Wilson nodded. "Yeah, it was good last time, so I ordered. What movies do you want to watch?"

House looked over at the DVD's between them. "Are we having a slumber party? You gonna do my nails next? I could sure use a pedicure."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you could. Moving on, I got a few DVD's."

"You didn't bring over 'Legally Blonde' again did you?" He smirked, bringing a spoonful of soup to his mouth.

"Screw you. I've already explained that was Julie's movie and I grabbed it by mistake." Wilson grinned good-naturedly. "Tonight, I've decided to continue the Asian theme with complementary cinema."

"Kung-fu movies?" House said, finishing off the soup and piling his plate high with rice and saytay.

"For the most part." He flipped a DVD over. "Kung-fu Hustle"

"Ah, this was supposed to be funny." House picked it up. "Fine. Put it in the player." He tossed the DVD back to Wilson.

Wilson cocked his head to the side. "You feeling…."

"Fine. Dammit. Can't I be lazy without having you question me every five minutes?" He ate a mouthful of rice. "Besides, you walk faster."

Wilson acquiesced, and put the DVD into House's Playstation 2. He settled back and the movie began.


	2. Chapter 2

Wilson was somewhat relieved to see House laugh. It wasn't often that he did. The movie's credits came scrolling on the screen.

"Not bad," House said. "That landlady, know who she reminded me of?"

"No clue." Wilson said smiling.

"Cuddy!" House said mischievously. "It's perfect. I can see her now, walking around the house, hair in curlers, cigarette dripping from those frowny lips, that oh-so-sexy white nightgown."

Wilson shook his head. "You're sick. Speaking of Cuddy," his tone grew serious.

House waved his hand. "We are _not_ speaking of Cuddy. It's still early. What's next?" He opened another beer.

Wilson looked at the two remaining movies. "Okay, we have a choice of 'Shaolin Soccer', another comedy, or an action flick."

"Action? Specifically?" House took a sip of beer.

"The One." Wilson said, and was quickly startled as House choked on his beer. "Jesus you OK?"

House coughed, shaking his head. "God," he said after the coughing spell had dissipated, "has a very cruel sense of humor."

Wilson looked confused. "I don't get it."

"I don't want to talk about it." House said.

"You can't just throw out a comment about God having a bad sense of humor and not explain yourself." Wilson said sourly.

"I can, and I will," House said petulantly. "Next topic."

"Fine," Wilson said. "Fine, be that way. So we're going to talk about something else. I ran into Cuddy as I was leaving today…"

"With your car?" House said hopefully.

Wilson scowled. "Stop that. This is serious."

"Oooh I'm all a twitter to see what Dr. Jimmy has to say," House muttered sardonically.

Wilson's eyes narrowed. "Cuddy said that she asked Stacy to work at the hospital."

If it were at all possible, House seemed to shrink a little before Wilson's eyes. He looked down at the floor for a few, quiet seconds. "Yeah." He managed to say before taking another drink.

"She also mentioned that Stacy only agreed to the job if it were OK with you. And Cuddy said that you said yes." He fixed House with a stare.

House didn't look at him. He sighed, and picked up a few errant grains of rice off of the coffee table and ate them.

"Well?" Wilson persisted.

House's hand slammed down on the table in a sudden motion. Wilson jumped. House balled the hand into a fist, secretly savoring the stinging pain in his palm. He looked up at Wilson, and with a start, Wilson saw how haggard he looked.

"Well…" House said slowly. He closed his eyes. "I've had a shitty day. Do we really have to talk about this now?"

"If not now… when?" Wilson asked softly.

"Fine. Cuddy came and asked me if I was OK with Stacy working at the hospital while Mark is still here. What could I have said?"

"You _could_ have said no." Wilson said.

"Yeah right. I'm not giving her that kind of satisfaction." He closed his eyes and leaned back against the soft leather of the couch. He opened his eyes and gave a sideways glance at Wilson. "She told me I was 'The One'. Hence my comment from earlier."

"Who did, Stacy?" Wilson looked confused.

"No, _Cuddy_. Then she dropped to her knees and offered to blow me. Of course Stacy." He sighed again. "She said that I was always going to be the one for her. But that she couldn't be with me because I made her lonely. What kind of bullshit is that?"

Wilson's eyes were the size of saucers. "She told you she still loved you?"

"Not in so many words. But yeah. She still loves me, and goes home and does her guidance counselor. How fucked up is that?" House stared at his hands.

"Pretty fucked up." Wilson nodded. "Do you love her? Still, I mean?"

House closed his eyes in thought. "I don't know," he said finally. "I feel _something_ for her. But I don't think it's love. Not anymore. On some level I'll always love her. I don't know anything anymore." He inspected a fingernail, not wanting to make eye contact with Wilson.

"She loves you," Wilson said. "She'll never stop loving you, now she works with you. That's a dangerous combination. Do you want her back?"

House picked up the remote to the stereo. The Rolling Stones blasted over the speakers. He winced, and switched CD's. "You Can't Always Get What You Want" wasn't what he needed to be hearing right now. Not again anyway. Vivaldi would do.

"No," he said softly. "I don't."

"Okay." Wilson said softly, unsure as to how to continue. "So maybe you need to see other people. It would be good to get out."

"You mean _Cameron_ don't you?" House said somewhat bitterly.

"Not necessarily Cameron. But sure, why not. She's pretty, she's smart, you like her." Wilson spoke slowly, afraid to hit a nerve. "I mean, you _do _like her, right?"

House looked up at the ceiling. "She is pretty, smart, and I do like her." He agreed. "The problem is, that I've already fucked up that relationship before it started."

"So the date went poorly. Not a big deal. Just try again."

House looked over at him and shook his head slowly. "Oh this is much, much worse."

"Worse than you telling her that the reason she was interested in you was because of a pathological need to fix things that were broken?" Wilson picked up a piece of pineapple from the rice. "What did you do?"

House snorted. "Oh sure, I have to _do_ something."

Wilson sighed. "House,"

"I didn't _do_ anything," House snapped. "I was just checking up on Mark Warner,"

"You mean spying on Stacy," Wilson interjected.

"Whatever. Anyhow, Cameron comes up to me and asks me how Warner is doing, and the next thing out of her mouth is that she thought I was too screwed up to love anyone."

Wilson laughed. "She said that? Wow. When did she grow cojones?"

'I have no idea. Now don't interrupt," House said annoyed.

"There's more?"

"Oh yeah. She said she thought I was too screwed up to love anyone. But that she was wrong. I just couldn't love _her_. And that she was happy for me."

Wilson's jaw dropped. "Holy shit. She said all that?"

"She did." House said softly. "And then she turned around and walked away." House sighed again.

"And you said…"

"I said nothing. I just watched her walk away. Then I turned around and watched Stacy and Mr. Mackey cuddle."

"Markey," Wilson corrected.

"I said Mackey I meant Mackey, mmm'kay?" House said. "Southpark. I know you watch it. And you're interrupting again." House scowled.

"Oh like you don't interrupt me all the time," Wilson said.

"That doesn't make it right. Anyhow. So I go to my office to feel sorry for myself and Stacy comes in and tells me that I'm the one. And then when I see Cuddy she tells me about the job offer. So now Cameron hates me, Stacy loves me, and Cuddy wants to torture me."

"Cameron doesn't hate you. She loves you." Wilson said patiently.

"You said that about Stacy," House reminded him.

"Yeah. And I was right." Wilson said smugly. "So what are you going to do about this predicament you find yourself in?"

"Well I had planned on sitting home and wallowing in my own self pity. Drink some scotch, listen to music. Play the piano. But you had to come over here and ruin it."

"Your plan sucks. You need to talk to Cameron," Wilson said.

"Wrong. That would only make things worse." House said. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have good luck with the ladies."

"Just observe the master," Wilson said.

"So says the man with three divorces under his belt." House said dryly.

"I am not divorced from Julie," Wilson said indignantly.

"Yet," House responded.

Wilson waved his hand dismissively. "Fine," he said. "The point being that I was able to get them to marry me in the first place."

"I always assumed you hit them over the head with your club and dragged them back to your cave," House quipped.

"You are _so _funny. I don't understand why the ladies aren't lined up around the block." Wilson said. House glared at him. "Seriously, we need a plan of attack."

"What is this, high school?" House rolled his eyes.

"No. Because in high school you had no chance of getting laid." Wilson grinned. "Now pay attention…"


	3. Chapter 3

House walked into his office on Monday slowly. His fucking leg was killing him. He had spent a long, sleepless night, tossing and turning. He sat down at his desk. A quick glance at the conference room showed his team going about the usual morning routine. The coffee pot seemed miles away.

He closed his eyes, and rested his head on the desk. _Coffee_ he thought, _someone please bring me a cup of fucking coffee…_

Foreman glanced over and House, and then at Cameron and Chase. Chase was thumbing through the latest journal, and Cameron was straightening up the area around the coffee pot. "So," he said, "it looks like it is going to be a great week."

"Seriously," Chase said, taking a sip from his cup. "Someone looks like hell."

"Probably out partying all weekend," Foreman mumbled. "Celebrating the latest victory."

"And why not?" Cameron said bitterly. "He won didn't he? The whole package, solved the puzzle, and got the girl."

Chase and Foreman exchanged a look behind her back. Chase opened his mouth to reply, but Foreman silenced him with a glare.

"So," Foreman said pleasantly, "what is on the agenda for today? Anything good?"

Cameron shook her head. "Nothing scheduled so far. Clinic work I guess." Foreman noted that she looked almost as tired as House.

The three of them studied the figure that was still resting his head against the desk. "Ok," Chase said, "who gets to tell him we all have clinic duty?"

"Rock, paper scissors?" Foreman said quietly.

"Oh for godssake," Cameron sighed. She walked over to the coffee pot and poured a cup, adding the required sugar and cream, and stirred it angrily. Then she walked over to his desk, and set it down. Hard. Little rivers of coffee poured down the sides and onto the papers on his desk.

House glanced up. "I see my Jedi mind powers worked," he said softly.

She didn't smile. "There is nothing scheduled for today," she said dryly. "Dr. Cuddy expects us in the clinic as soon as possible. _All of us_."

He sighed, and took a sip of the coffee. "Great."

She turned to go back to the conference room, tight-lipped.

"Dr. Cameron," he said faintly.

She turned around, uncertain at his tone of voice. "Yes Dr. House?" Her heart was pounding, and she was almost afraid to meet his eyes.

"Thank you, for the coffee." He said simply.

She studied his face. His eyes were pained, and he looked like he hadn't slept all weekend. But there was something else there, a barely visible emotion peeking out behind the usual veneer of pain. Her eyes widened slightly as she identified it as regret.

"You're welcome Dr. House." She said demurely, breaking eye contact, and retreating into the safety of the conference room. She felt his eyes on her back.

"Is he OK?" Chase said.

Cameron shrugged. "What am I, psychic?" It came out much harsher than she intended, and a flush crept over her cheeks.

Foreman cringed. "Screw House, are _you _ok?"

She closed her eyes a split second, before giving what she hoped was a winning smile. "I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm cranky. Sorry I snapped at you Chase." She avoided their eyes and poured herself a cup of java, and sat down at the table to examine the paper.

Chase shrugged. "Whatever." He rolled the journal into a tube and started bouncing it on the table.

"Dude!" Foreman said, annoyed. "Clinic."

"Alright already," Chase whined. He got up from his seat with heave. "Coming Cameron?"

"In a minute," she murmured, sipping some coffee. "Let me finish this, and then I'll catch up with you."

Chase and Foreman exchanged another look, and simultaneously rolled their eyes. The gestures passed unnoticed as Cameron was feigning interest in an article in the paper on the table.

The boys walked down the hall.

"What is up with her today?" Chase said, shaking his head.

"Same thing that is always up with her man," Foreman replied. "House."

"My God it's like some sort of _disease_." Chase said, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

"Yeah, a venereal one," Foreman quipped, and they both dissolved into laughter on their way to the clinic.

Cameron drank her coffee slowly, pretending to be absorbed in the paper, stealing glances over a House between sips. What she failed to notice was that every time her eyes fell to the article before her on the table, blue eyes would dart over to study her figure. They continued the tenuous optical game of tag for five minutes, until she was able to finish the rest of her coffee, and she stood up resignedly.

House watched her leave. As soon as she was out of sight, he reached into his desk and brought out the familiar bottle of pills. As he swallowed two, he tried to convince himself that he wasn't waiting until she left to take his dose.

"Mondays," he murmured under his breath. With a grimace, he was on his feet, and limping towards the clinic.


	4. Chapter 4

Steady, steady, and… "Ladies and gentleman, we have corn," House said triumphantly, holding a monstrous kernel in a pair of forceps. The satisfaction was short lived, as the kernel was followed by a tidal wave of green mucous.

"ACHOO," little thirteen month old Danny Kreider sneezed, spraying a fine mist of spit, snot and of course, nice plump boogers all over House's collar and worse yet, his face.

House closed his eyes for a second. "Could you hand me a tissue?" He said to the embarrassed mother. She handed him a handful, and he wiped off his face. "Okay, problem solved," he tried to smile.

"I can't thank you enough Dr. House," Mrs. Kreider said apologetically. "And I promise that I will watch him more carefully when he eats."

"Most toddlers go through a stage like this," House said. "You're just lucky it wasn't a contact lens." His pager went off. "And on that note," he got up stiffly. The mother nodded and smiled, taking her little blonde bundle of joy out the door.

"House, please come to exam room 7. A. Cameron." The message on the pager flashed again. _Great_, he thought.

He walked out of the exam room and headed down the hall. A lab coat clad figure materialized in front of him.

"Dr. House, where exactly do you think you are going?"

"Ahh. Dr. Cuddy. So like the proverbial bad penny. And how are you this morning?"

Cuddy blinked. House was almost, friendly? _What the hell?_ "I believe I asked you a question." Her piercing blue eyes met his.

"You know what, I was doing my job, nice touch on sending me the corn-up-the-nose kid by the way, and I got called in for a _consult_. So now I have to go and be a doctor and stuff." He leaned on his cane.

"By whom, and it had better not be Wilson." Cuddy said sourly.

"Actually Dr. Cuddy, it was Dr. Cameron. And I doubt that she is calling me away to scope out some babe with a killer rack. Besides, that's why we have you." He smiled and took a deliberate glance at her cleavage.

Her eyes narrowed. "If it were anyone else, I'd say no. But considering that Cameron is one of the few people around here who seems to grasp the importance of clinic duty, then by all means, go be a doctor and stuff." She fixed him with an icy glare. "But be quick about it. You have patients."

"Yes _Mommy_" He whined, and continued past her down the hall.

Cuddy smiled to herself. _He's not so bad lately. I'm glad Dr. Cameron decided to come back._ She retreated down the corridor.

House got to the door of Exam Room 7 just as it opened, and Cameron came out. He looked at her with mild interest. "I assume this is good. Malaria? The bubonic plague? Leishmania?" His voice trailed off as he studied her face. She was pale.

"I was just coming to have you paged," Cameron said breathlessly.

"You didn't think I'd come." House stated flatly. "What is it?"

Her eyes were unreadable. "You just, you need to come in here and confirm my diagnosis."

"Do I need to get Wilson?"

"It's not," her voice broke. "It's not cancer. I just. I needed someone else to see this. Foreman and Chase were busy and they… well. Just come in."

House looked at her again and stepped into the exam room.

On the table sat a rather pretty girl, according to her chart she was nineteen years old. Her mother stood next to her. She saw Dr. House and smiled hugely. She was developmentally disabled.

He picked up the chart. "Becky Stevens," he said. She waved at him.

"I'm Becky's mother, Lynn." A rather attractive woman stepped forward to shake his hand. Cameron hovered in the background.

"What seems to be the trouble ladies?" Dr. House asked.

"Becky," Lynn Stevens said kindly, "tell the doctor what is bothering you."

"Ey ummy urt." Becky said rather forlornly.

House looked at her mother for clarification.

"Her tummy hurts," Lynn said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I forget that people who haven't been around Becky have trouble understanding her."

House nodded. "Can I ask what the origin of Becky's disability is?" He said carefully.

Lynn nodded. "Of course. She was…" she gestured with her hands. "She was deprived of oxygen at birth. The cord was wrapped around her neck." She looked down. "I know you doctors probably hate hearing about mistakes. But it was a medical error."

House looked at her with a mixture of pity and understanding. "I understand that doctors make mistakes," he said softly. He looked back and Cameron quizzically.

Cameron stepped forward. "I think it's a UTI, Dr. House," she said softly.

"And Becky has already given the nice nurses a sample," Lynn Stevens said smiling. "You were a big girl, right Becky? You went all by yourself."

"Ay myelf," Becky agreed.

"Well, Dr. Cameron seems to have everything under control," House said. He turned to look at her. Her eyes were pleading with him to stay. He gave her a questioning look, and turned to look at the chart. Something caught his eye.

"Mrs. Stevens, have you ever had Becky in for a pelvic exam?"

Lynn Stevens' eyes widened. "Why, no, I just. Oh my goodness. I never thought, well." She looked over at her daughter, who was looking intently at a poster of the human circulatory system on the wall. "I just, keep thinking that she's a child, you know."

House smiled. "I understand. Do you have any other children?"

"Yes, another daughter. She and Becky are ten months apart." She smiled. "Carolyn, does not share Becky's disability."

"I see," House looked at the chart again. "And I assume Becky has started menstruating by now."

"Oh yes, around thirteen or so." Lynn agreed.

"And her cycles are regular?" House asked.

"Well I, I guess. She tries to be independent you know. Wants to be like her sister."

House nodded. He looked over at Cameron, who stepped forward.

"Hi Becky," Cameron said. "I have to ask you. Do you know what a period is?" She smiled reassuringly at the girl.

"Es," Becky said nodding vigorously.

"And do you have your period every month?" Cameron asked.

Becky's brow furrowed with concentration. She looked up and Cameron and replied.

Cameron and House both looked at Lynn Stevens. "I'm sorry," Cameron said, "I didn't catch that."

Lynn smiled. "She said she didn't have her period yesterday."

The continued to look perplexed. Lynn offered further explanation. "Becky doesn't have a clear concept of time. Everything is either today, tomorrow, or yesterday. So yesterday means anything in the past."

Cameron nodded. "Becky, how many yesterdays since you've had your last period?"

Becky pondered the question. "Ete irfay," she said finally.

"Pete is her sister's boyfriend." Lynn said with a smile. "So Pete's birthday, was… let's see… about two and a half months ago."

"Two and a half months with no cycle," House said. He felt a faint wave of nausea. "And you didn't notice?"

"Well, no."

He looked at the history that Cameron had gathered. "It says here that she's been having abdominal pain. Mood swings, painful urination. Any nausea?"

Lynn's smile was starting to fade. "Nausea? I don't…" she looked at her daughter. "I don't understand."

"Has Becky been sick in the mornings?" Cameron said gently.

"Well, I leave for work before she gets up. Her sister stays with her in the mornings and after class. And we have a caretaker that comes in from hospice."

House turned to Becky. "Becky," he said gently. "Do you like Pete?"

Becky nodded. "Eet ice."

"Is Pete ever alone with you?" House said quietly.

"I don't understand what this is all about." Lynn Stevens said, discomfited.

"Dr. Cameron, please take Mrs. Stevens into the hallway for a second." House said softly.

"Please follow me Mrs. Stevens." Cameron said dully.

Lynn Stevens followed Cameron into the hallway. "Dr. Cameron, is my daughter seriously ill?"

Cameron's heart sunk. "Mrs. Stevens," she said softly. "There might be some complications. But I asked Dr. House in to be sure."

"Why can't I be in there with her?" She asked pleadingly.

"Dr. House feels that it might be more comfortable for Becky to answer some questions without you present."

"But he won't understand her," she said plaintively.

"He's going to conduct a pelvic exam. Draw some blood. All very routine things." Cameron said reassuringly.

"Well, that's fine," Lynn Stevens said softly. "She isn't sick is she?"

"No." Cameron said firmly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to a nurse about your daughter's samples. Please take a seat. We'll get you in a few minutes."

Cameron walked over to the lab station. "Hi, Amy." She smiled as brightly as she could at one of the nurses. "Do you have a urine sample for a Becky Stevens?"

The nurse looked up. "I was just getting ready to transfer it to a tube. What's up?"

Cameron smiled at her again. "I need you to run a really quick test."

Cameron got Mrs. Stevens and walked back into the exam room. Becky was smiling, sitting in a chair now, and Dr. House was writing in her chart.

"Becky," Dr. House said softly. "Could you and Dr. Cameron go wait outside. I need to talk to your mom about a few things."

Becky jumped up and smiled. Cameron walked over to House with a small, covered plastic tray. He met her eyes and she nodded. Then, smiling brightly at Becky, she walked her out into the waiting room.

House sat down in a chair, holding the tray in his hand. Mrs. Stevens sat in front of him on the table apprehensively. He handed her the tray.

Lynn Stevens opened the tray and stared perplexedly at the contents. "I don't… I don't understand." She said finally.

House looked up at her. "It's a pregnancy test, Mrs. Stevens." He said quietly.

"I can see that. I don't understand."

House tightened his jaw. "This is going to be very hard for you. Your daughter Becky is pregnant."

Lynn dropped the tray, which crashed to the ground. "That isn't… that's not possible."

"You need to go home and call the police," House said steadily.

"The police? What?"

"I asked Becky if she was ever alone with Pete and she said, at least I _think_ she said that when Carrie is studying Pete goes to the basement to play games with her."

"Carrie. Carolyn, my other daughter?"

"I guess. She said Pete gives her sodas. Sometimes the sodas make her very sleepy." He stared at her.

"What are you… oh my sweet Jesus. You don't think…" She burst into tears.

"I performed a pelvic exam. It's apparent that Becky has been sexually active." House felt his anger cresting in a wave. "It's apparent that your daughter's boyfriend is a son of a bitch who likes to date rape pretty girls because don't know any better."

Lynn Stevens sobbed.

"I am very sorry." House said somberly. "Now, you have to talk this over with your daughter. You can either choose to terminate the pregnancy, or have her carry it to term, and raise the child."

He stood up. Lynn Stevens stood up as well and flew into his arms sobbing. He held her awkwardly for a few minutes. "Go home, and call the police. That bastard needs to be locked up." He felt like he should be saying more, but was at a loss for words.

When Mrs. Stevens composed herself, she looked up at Dr. House. "Thank you," she said firmly. "Thank you and Dr. Cameron. I have to go home now. I need to make some phone calls." She walked out of the room. House collapsed back into the chair.

A few minutes later, a red-eyed Cameron walked into the room. House looked up at her. "What tipped you off?" He said.

Cameron shrugged. "Becky's mother said something about her having all these weird… cravings for food. Like on the way here she wanted a spicy bite from 7-11, even though she always hated them in the past. She thought Becky was just trying to imitate her sister." Her shoulders slumped. "What kind of sick son of a bitch would rape a girl who is mentally a three year old?"

House shook his head. "I don't… I don't even know. Sick fuck." He looked up at Cameron. "Cameron," he said hoarsely.

She looked at him with sad green eyes. "I need to go. I have to… I have to think. Thank you for coming House." And with that she turned and left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Cameron stood quietly, surveying the buildings around the hospital. It was still mid morning, and the sounds of the traffic carried over to her. It wasn't often that she came up here, and when she did, it was for the same reason. She opened her purse surreptitiously and found the battered pack of cigarettes. Allison Cameron wasn't what one would consider a smoker. A pack for her usually lasted months. But on bad days, she would sneak up to her perch, and light up.

The pack still contained eighteen cigarettes. She had purchased it the night of the date with House. That night, she had driven to a convenience store, mind numb, and put down a twenty dollar bill. The clerk had smiled at her when she asked for a pack of Newport Lights. He asked if she wanted matches, and she nodded, and murmured that two books would be fine.

The clerk smiled hugely at her and said, "For you, pretty lady, anything. Take six."

She had smiled and blushed. When she got home that night she sat outside and smoked two cigarettes, her imagination alternating between House's somber visage, telling her that she wanted damaged goods, and the store clerk who had called her a pretty lady. Then she had gone into the house and thrown up. She had tried to convince herself that it was the tobacco.

She pulled a smoke out of the pack and lit it. She took a long drag, and coughed. _This is stupid_, she thought. _This solves nothing, and all I get in return is emphysema and possibly cancer._ This was followed by another thought. _Good. _

She was lost in thought and didn't hear the footsteps approaching her.

"Allison?"

"Jesus Christ!" She jumped. "Oh Eric. You scared me!" She smiled, and then her face blanched. She lowered the hand holding the cigarette. "I uh…"

Foreman smiled. "Relax. I won't tell on you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Cameron smiled. "You too?"

"Yeah. Not so much anymore. Just every once in a while. Rough day?" He studied her face.

She sighed. "Bad case." As Foreman went to light a match, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small silver butane lighter. She flicked it on, the blue flame glowing.

Foreman lit his cigarette and took a drag. "Nice lighter. Very feminine."

She smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

He studied the skyline. "I heard about your case." He turned to look at her. "You OK?"

She sighed. "I think I've officially lost faith in the human race." Her words floated out on a fine mist of mentholated smoke. "I don't understand how someone could do something like that."

Foreman took a long drag. "You never will. People like that, their minds work on a different level. Trying to understand someone's motivations is useless. Analyzing people is useless."

"And yet you do it all the time," Cameron smiled.

"I do not."

"What about House?" Her voice was lighter, teasing.

Foreman scowled. "Okay, maybe House. But you're one to talk. You've taken analysis of House to a new level."

"I'm not the one that has a problem with it." Cameron said. She had hoped to avoid the subject of House. Somehow it was more depressing to her than the thought of an innocent girl being raped. _Dear God, is that how deranged I've become?_

"So how was he with the girl? I just can't picture him treating someone like that."

Cameron glared at Foreman. "What is it with you and Chase? House is human. He does have emotions. He was good. He's always good. He's a brilliant doctor."

Foreman laughed. "Emotions? Sure. Anger. Sarcasm…"

"Sarcasm isn't an emotion. Wait. Is it?"

"No. It's a form of humor. I think. Anyhow, I digress. He's not exactly compassionate. Look at Mark Warner."

They were now rapidly approaching dangerous territory. Cameron's heart rate increased. _I may never be able to hear the name Warner again without going into tachycardia_, she mused.

"He was right." Cameron said simply.

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Do you think he cares about being right because of _the patient_? Or do you think he wanted to be right to prove us wrong?" He snubbed out his cigarette on the ledge.

Cameron took a final drag of her cigarette and dropped it to the ground. She crushed it violently with her foot, grinding it into the gravel. She looked up at Foreman. "I think he did it because he thought he could win Stacy back."

Foreman stared at her incredulously. "Is _that_ what you think? You think he wants her back?"

"You don't? Have you _seen_ how he looks at her?" Cameron was stunned.

"Yeah. You've never looked at anybody that way?"

_Only House_. "Not really. What way?"

Foreman sighed. "When I was in high school, I had this girlfriend. We dated all through high school, and into college. I got accepted to medical school, and we broke up. I went home after I graduated, see my family, and I saw her. She was married, had a couple kids…"

"And…" Cameron was unclear as to how everything was related. "You still loved her?"

"No, that's my point. I mean yes, I loved her. But I wasn't _in love_ with her. Huge difference." He looked into Cameron's green eyes.

"And so you felt…"

"Nostalgia. Slightly wistful at what could have been. Not love. I realized it would never have worked out. So does House. That doesn't mean he doesn't want to push buttons. That's what he _does_. Pissing off Mark is his payoff. If I had a chance to piss off LeShaun's husband, I would consider it." Foreman smiled. "And I'm nicer than House."

"LeShaun?" The corners of Cameron's mouth twitched up.

"Shut up. It was the nineties. Do you still have a thing for House?"

Cameron closed her eyes. "I don't know."

"Bad idea."

She ducked her head. "I know. I just… can't help it."

Foreman put his arm around her. "And that's the worst part of it all. We can't choose whom we love. Or who loves us."

"If you could choose…"

"Penelope Cruz." Foreman grinned. "Or Selma Hayek. Or a young Vanessa Williams."

"I always figured you were a Naomi Campbell type of guy," Cameron said with a grin.

Foreman laughed. "No way man. She's violent. Come on, we have to get back to work."

Cameron leaned up and kissed Foreman impulsively on the cheek. "Thanks, Eric."

"For what?"

"For everything."


	6. Chapter 6

House sat in the empty exam room for a few minutes, slowly digesting what had just happened. He was staring blankly at the floor, when Dr. Cuddy came in. He looked up at her darkly.

She held up a finger. "I heard all about it. Thank you, it must have been hard for Dr. Cameron."

House grunted. Then, squaring his jaw, he looked up into Cuddy's brilliant blue eyes. "Did it ever occur to _anyone_, Dr. Cuddy," he said bitterly, "that things like these are also hard on me?"

Cuddy's mouth opened slightly. This was very unlike House. She felt a pang of regret. House was, after all, human. _And now Stacy is here. What a fucking mess._ "I'm sorry Greg," she said softly.

He rolled his eyes at the use of his first name. "So am I _Lisa_," he said sharply. He stood up slowly, and took out the familiar bottle of pills. "And if you'll excuse me," he said, popping one in his mouth, "I suppose I have more patients to see."

She pursed her lips. "I gave them all to Chase and Foreman," she murmured. "You have a few hours off."

House blinked. "I'm sorry. What did you just say?"

The compassion slowly melted into annoyance. Cuddy's posture changed, she straightened up. Her eyes regained their usual sarcastic glint. "You heard me. You and Cameron have a few hours off. Don't make me regret this."

House stared at her for a few seconds. Then his eyes glinted dangerously. "Have I ever made you regret _anything_ Cuddy?" He grinned.

She glared at him. "Keep it up and my offer will expire. Get out. Go hide somewhere. I'll see you back here at," she glanced at her watch. "1:30. Not a minute later." She fully expected a haggling session.

To her surprise, House just nodded. "1:30. Fine. Thank you Dr. Cuddy." He walked past her slender form, ignoring the look in her eyes.

A small shiver went up her spine. _I'll page Wilson,_ she thought. She folded her hands in front of her, trying to ignore the persistent feeling of unease.

Wilson strolled casually into House's office. House was sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the monitor. Cuddy's page had arrived when he was supposed to be going over a few patient files. Wilson and Lisa Cuddy had been silently observing House's behavior ever since Mark Warner had been admitted. Cuddy was more worried about House than she would admit to herself. Wilson suspected that it was a combination of guilt from offering Stacy a job at the hospital, and listening to House's lecture on diagnostics a few weeks back. That night, after Wilson had locked his door, he had passed Cuddy's office and heard her crying softly. He never mentioned it to either of them.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the clinic?" Wilson said, smiling.

House started. Usually he heard people coming in to his office. "Nope," he said, "boss lady gave me a few hours off. And all I had to do was treat a patient. Makes it almost seem worthwhile."

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "What patient?" He sat down in his usual spot.

For an instant, something seemed to fall away, and a startling, naked emotion was revealed in House's unfathomably blue eyes. Then it was gone. "Just a pregnancy test."

Wilson continued to stare at House perplexedly. House narrowed his eyes. "Just the standard young male asshole drugging and raping his girlfriend's retarded sister." He snarled.

Wilson flinched. "Jesus Christ," he said softly.

"He wasn't around to save _Becky_," House muttered. "It was Cameron's patient, she called me in to confirm her diagnosis. And I got to explain it to the mother. That was fun. Excuse me ma'am, but your daughter's potential brother-in-law has been fucking her while she's asleep. That's ok though, because she's not going to understand what's going on anyway, because some asshole OB-GYN starved her brain of oxygen when she was born." House slammed his hand on the table. "Sometimes I fucking _hate_ people."

"Sometimes?" Wilson said dryly.

House glared at him. "Cute. And then, when I tried to talk to Cameron, she walked off again."

"Jesus House, what did you expect? That's hard on anybody. She probably didn't want to talk about it."

House's eyes were blazing blue flames. "But _I_ did James. That is the whole fucking point. _I _wanted to talk about it."

Wilson's gaze softened. "So talk," he said softly.

House was looking past Wilson. "What the fuck is wrong with people? He can't go and find a perfectly willing slut to screw? Her sister wasn't good in the sack? What, did she move too much?"

Wilson shook his head. "That's sick."

"It _is _sick. People are sick. Christ I hate this." House slammed down his hand on his desk. "I swear to God, if he had been the one to bring her in, I would have strangled the son of a bitch."

Wilson narrowed his eyes slightly. "Something tells me this goes further than just a disabled girl who was taken advantage of."

House glared at him. "What, I can't be _compassionate_? You're worse than Cuddy."

Wilson held both hands up in front of him, palms facing House. "I'm not saying you can't be compassionate. I'm just saying you usually _aren't_. I find it refreshing that you're taking an interest in your patients."

House raised his eyebrows at the word 'refreshing'. "She wasn't my patient. She was Cameron's. That's another thing. She has to grow up. Take care of things herself. I'm not always going to be here to…" his voice trailed off.

"Take care of her?" Wilson said, smiling.

"No." House scowled. "Clean up after her."

"House," Wilson cajoled, "you're going to be here a long time. Get used to it."

House crossed his arms and turned around, looking out the window. "Your point is lost on me Oprah." He muttered.

"Is this about the age difference between you and Cameron?" Wilson asked softly.

House turned around, incredulously. "Where the _hell_ did you get that idea?"

"You just said you weren't going to be here, she needed to grow up…" Wilson replied. His brown eyes were sparkling. _Ah,_ he thought, _the thrill of the hunt._

"I have no problem with our age differences," House said impatiently. "I should be so lucky to…" He stopped, and glared at Wilson. "God damn you." House snarled.

Wilson chuckled. "So, what is stopping you from asking her out?"

"You're relentless. Like a bulldog or something!" House sighed. "It's getting old."

"It's not the only one," Wilson said smiling.

House pursed his lips. "You suck so much sometimes."

Wilson laughed. "I'm just saying. We're not getting any younger." He looked at House expectantly.

"I am. Hence the electronic gear. Every minute I play gameboy is a minute I'm younger." House said haughtily.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Acting like a child doesn't make you one."

House sighed. "Yeah. Unfortunately Becky's mom found that out today." House flinched slightly at the memory. "What would you do?"

"Aside from castrating the perp?" Wilson asked.

"Perp? What are you watching COPS now?" House smiled wryly. "Yes. I mean with the baby, would you let your daughter carry it to term or terminate the pregnancy."

Wilson furrowed his brow in thought. "I think," he said finally, "I would use it as an opportunity to make up for any past mistakes. Assuming I was able to care for the baby, I would raise it as my child."

"A second chance…" House said thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Wilson agreed. "We could all use more of those."

House eyed Wilson skeptically. "You really, really need to lay off the Dr. Phil shit."

Wilson smiled. "I thought I was Oprah."

House rolled his eyes. "Details, details." He turned off his computer. "You're hell bent on this Cameron thing aren't you?"

Wilson shrugged. "_Hell bent_ is a little strong. I just want to see you both happy."

House closed his eyes for a moment. "It's never going to work out." He said softly.

"You think so?" Wilson asked. "Why is that?"

House shrugged. "I'm not her type."

"And who is, Chase? Foreman? Me?"

House snorted at the last part. "Well honestly, yeah. You. Sunny Jim and Adorable Allison. You'd have beautiful brunette children, all prodigies. You're _nice_. I'm…"

"Curmudgeonly?" Wilson said, smiling.

House arched an eyebrow. "That makes me sound like Walter Matthau." He shook his head. "I don't need to drag her down," House said finally.

"_Drag her down?_" Wilson said in amazement. "Where the hell do you get this stuff. If you drag people down I'd be six feet under by now. Did it ever occur to you that she wants you _just the way you are_." Wilson sighed. "That's the thing you fail to realize about human nature House. People _like_ you. Cuddy likes you. Foreman likes you, though he'd never admit it. Chase, well he thinks you're an asshole, but he likes you anyway."

"Why," House growled. "Why do people like me? I don't like them!"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Right. You hate everybody."

"Well _you're_ okay _most of the time_." House said. He closed his eyes for a minute. "Why do you care?" House said softly.

"About…" Wilson cocked his head to the side. House looked tired, and defeated.

"Me." It was one word, but it brought with it a flood of emotions.

"I told you. I have two things in life that matter. This job, and our friendship." Wilson felt a flutter of fear in his stomach. Over the years he had come to understand, or at least pretend to understand House's mind. His twisted philosophy on life was fairly straightforward. His emotional side was a mystery. And every encounter he had with House's emotions, other than anger, left him feeling incredibly inadequate.

House studied Wilson silently. "Thanks," he said softly. Then he straightened up in his chair. "So… lunch?"

"That's it? Lunch?" Wilson rolled his eyes.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Life goes on. Oh bli dee and all that jazz."

"Fine. But you're buying this time!" Inside, Wilson was breathing a sigh of relief. Seeing Greg preoccupied like this always troubled him. House had gone through periods like this, and at the end of each episode, Wilson always thanked his lucky stars that both of them had passed unscathed. Still he couldn't shake the feeling that soon his luck was going to run out.


	7. Chapter 7

Foreman and Chase met at the desk, flipping through charts.

"Lunch?" Chase asked.

"Mmmmm…" Foreman mumbled. He squinted at a page. "Sure, in a few."

"Where's Cameron?" Chase said, scanning the clinic.

"She got a page from Cuddy saying that she had a few hours off." Foreman said with a shrug. "I told her to meet me here in 30 minutes. She said she was going to her car to get something."

Chase caught sight of two women in the corner of the clinic. "That the girl?"

Foreman glanced over at her. "Yeah. She's having a prenatal appointment. Guess she's keeping the baby."

Chase studied her. "Damn. It's a shame she's retarded."

Foreman looked at Chase with disgust. "At times you can be downright crude. You know that?"

"What? What did I say? She's pretty."

"That's just fucked up." He glanced at his watch. "Ok I have a common cold. I'll take care of that now. You want to meet Cam and head on to the cafeteria?"

Chase shrugged. "I'll go see if she's at her car. My next patient isn't for a while. Maybe we should go out tonight and get a few drinks. You know, so Cam can get her mind off of it."

Foreman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So she can get her mind on something else, you mean."

Chase flushed slightly. "I didn't say I was going to get her drunk. Besides, when is the last time we went to grab a beer together?"

Foreman sighed. "True enough. Why not? Run it by her. And be nice. She's had a really tough day."

Chase sniffed. "I'm always nice."

"Right. Just go. See you in a few."

Chase walked into the parking garage with slow, ambling steps. Cameron always parked her car in the same spot. As he neared the car, he could see her inside. At first glance, it looked like she was screaming. His heart quickened, and he started to walk faster. As he drew closer, he realized she wasn't screaming, she was singing.

Cameron's eyes were closed, and her stereo was going full blast in the car. Linkin Park wasn't what she usually listened to, but it was good music when she was angry. She screamed along with the lyrics as it blasted over her speakers.

"I'm tired of being what you want me to be! Feeling so faithless lost under the surface. Don't know what you're expecting of me. Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes." Her fist pounded the steering wheel. "I've become so numb…" she wailed.

Chase stared at her. He identified the song, muffled as it was. But what surprised him most was the fact that she was so beautiful in her rage. Cameron was always considered lovely, but something about the wanton way she was releasing all of her pent-up anger transformed something pretty into something spectacular.

He watched her in silence for a few minutes, and as the song drew to the end, he realized that he didn't want to be caught gawking at her. So he quickly turned and hurried towards the door.

"Robert!" Cameron called from behind him. She sounded out of breath.

"Hey, I was just stretching my legs," Chase said lamely. "Foreman wants to know if you want to go to lunch with us."

She cocked her head sideways. "I already said yes. Is he waiting for us?" Her face was flushed, and she was breathing heavily. Little tendrils of hair had found their way out of the ponytail she wore.

"He said we should meet him in the cafeteria." Chase said.

"Oh, sure. Let's head down then." Cameron said.

"You OK?" Chase said, studying her.

She flushed slightly. "I'm fine. I was getting, my lip gloss."

"Right. You look like you could use some." _Dammit_, he thought. _That was the wrong thing to say._

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, you sure know how to make a girl feel pretty."

"Well I didn't mean it that way…" Chase stammered. "I just. Oh, nevermind." He turned and started to walk to the hospital entrance.

She smiled. "I know. Thank you for asking how I was."

Chase's ears burned, and he offered no reply.

The arrived in the cafeteria and stood at the end of the line. Foreman appeared, and they waved him over.

"What's on the menu today?" He said, scanning the food.

"Stroganoff," Cameron said.

Chase and Foreman groaned simultaneously.

"I'm getting a chicken Caesar myself." Cameron said.

"I'll get anything but the stroganoff. You know what they put in their right?" Chase said.

Foreman held up a finger. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

They seated themselves at a table. "So," Chase said casually. "Do either of you have any plans for tonight?"

Foreman rolled his eyes. Cameron didn't notice.

"Let's see…" she said. "Laundry. Paint my toenails. A pilates video that I got off ebay and have been putting off."

"Sounds exciting," Foreman said. He turned to Chase. "Why? Did you have any plans?"

Chase glared at Foreman, who was grinning. "Well, I was thinking we could all go out and grab a few beers."

Cameron poked at her salad listlessly. "I guess. Sure, why not? Who's driving?"

Foreman looked over at her in surprise. "We could split a cab there and then home," he said. "That way we can all drink."

Chase smiled. "Sounds great," he said.

Cameron nodded. "I could use a few drinks."

Wilson observed the three doctors from the other side of the cafeteria. House was already seated at the table, picking at his Reuben, and Wilson needed more napkins. Cameron seemed a little more somber than usual, but other than that she appeared to be fine.

He grabbed the napkins and sat at the table. House pulled the top piece of bread off of his sandwich. "Dammit!" He shouted. "I asked for no pickles. Who the hell puts pickles on a Reuben?"

Wilson sighed. "Maybe if you didn't insult the cafeteria staff every time you ate here they wouldn't do it. They probably spit in your food too."

House glared at him. "They probably spit in yours. Guilt by association."

Wilson let his fork fall to the table. "You don't think…" he said slowly.

House sighed. "No. Eat your… whatever the hell that is."

"Stroganoff." Wilson said.

"Jesus. Do you know what is in that?" House said, repulsed.

Wilson closed his eyes in exasperation. "Yes. Leftover meatloaf. From last week. You tell me that every time I order it." He took a bite. "It's better than the tuna surprise."

"What's the surprise?" House asked, taking a tentative bite of his sandwich.

"It's not really tuna…" Wilson said with a grin.

House grinned. "This bread is stale." He sighed.

Wilson glanced over at the table where Foreman, Chase and Cameron were seated. Cameron was looking at House. She caught Wilson watching her and blushed. Wilson smiled and then turned to House.

House was playing with his straw. He looked up at Wilson. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You going to eat or you going to stare at me?"

Wilson picked up another forkful and took a bite. He was still looking at House.

"WHAT?" House said. "Did I get dressing on my tie?"

"You aren't wearing a tie," Wilson said.

"Very good Watson, there is hope for you yet." House studied Wilson for a second, and then turned around. He caught sight of his team at the other table. "Ah… is that it?"

Wilson shrugged. "She's been looking over at you for a while now."

"Yes well, can you blame her? I mean I am totally irresistible. Better than Brad Pitt. Look out Angelina." He opened his bag of potato chips and ate one.

"House," Wilson sighed.

He shrugged. "What?" He ate another potato chip.

"So. Have you seen her yet?" Wilson asked.

"Cameron? Several times, cute girl, short. Looks good in lilac"

"Not Cameron."

"Cuddy? Yes. She's wearing the pink blouse today. If you lean over just right…"

"Stacy," Wilson said with a tinge of impatience.

"Where?" House said with mock surprise.

"Have you seen Stacy since she started working here?" Wilson said.

"No." House said softly.

"Are you avoiding her?"

House ate a few more potato chips.

"House." Wilson cajoled.

He looked up. "I'm not _avoiding_ her. I'm not _looking_ for her either."

Wilson nodded with satisfaction. "Good."

House raised his eyebrows. "Good?" He asked.

"Well… it's just. There's a lot still there you know." Wilson said.

"No, I don't know. What are you referring to Dr. Wilson?"

Wilson sighed. "Maybe it would be best if you avoided her altogether."

"Have you been talking to her?" House said.

Wilson shrugged. "We said hello this morning."

"And…" House said. He took another half-hearted bite of his sandwich.

"And nothing. She said hello. I said hello." Wilson picked a suspicious-looking grey piece of meatlike substance out of the pasta and slid it to the edge of the plate.

House stared at him, blue eyes piercing. "You're not telling me something."

Wilson avoided his gaze.

"Wilson…" House said threateningly.

"We talked about Mark," Wilson said finally.

"Ah," House rolled his eyes. "How is Mr. Guidance Councilor doing?"

"Good, good," Wilson said evasively. "He wants to go home."

"That can be arranged," House muttered. He cracked his knuckles. "What else?"

"Nothing," Wilson said quickly.

House leaned back in his seat and studied Wilson's face. Wilson avoided House's gaze and pretended to be absorbed in dissecting his entrée. "Jimmy," House said softly.

Wilson looked up, startled. "Huh?" He sputtered. First names always meant business with House.

"Cut the bullshit. What are you hiding? I already know that I'm _The One_. What could be worse?"

"She's married Greg," Wilson said.

"Believe me, I remember."

"Yeah well," Wilson said, pushing away his tray, "sometimes I think she might not."

The color slowly drained from House's face. He stared at Wilson, wide-eyed. "Any reason you didn't mention this to me in my office ten minutes ago?" House said softly.

Wilson shrugged. "You didn't seem like you wanted to talk about her at the time."

"I never want to talk about anything," House muttered. "Care to elaborate on your last statement?"

Wilson shook his head. "Just, stay away from Stacy. It's for your own good." With that, Wilson stood up and checked his watch. "I have work to do." He walked away.

House sat staring at the half-eaten food on the table. His brain was running a thousand miles an hour. Someone passed him, and he looked up Foreman, Chase and Cameron stood by his table.

"Dr. House," Cameron said softly, "We're due back at the clinic."

House stared into her eyes and was unable to reply.


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the day went by in a blur for House. Common colds, sprained ankles, hemorrhoids. He treated them all efficiently but without his usual sarcasm.

Cuddy noticed the steady stream of patients emerging from Exam Room 5. They all walked out calmly. None of them appeared flustered or upset. Some even appeared _satisfied_. At 3 pm she had had enough. She walked into the room, fully expecting to find House playing gameboy or listening to his ipod.

House was, in fact, straightening up the exam room. Perhaps straightening was the wrong word. He was shuffling items around in a drawer.

Cuddy stood quietly in the doorway until House looked up. Their eyes locked, and he fixed her with a nasty stare. "Tell your nurses that we're nearly out of 3 cc syringes," he snapped.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy asked.

House tossed the rest of the syringes in the drawer. "Inventory," he snarled. "I can't do the _doctor thing_ without the right tools now can I?" He slammed the drawer shut. "Who's next? I'm up for a good inguinal hernia."

"That's enough," Cuddy snapped.

House looked at her quizzically. "Come again?"

"Go do some paperwork."

"Let me get this straight, I do my job. I don't terrorize anybody. No one complains to you, and you send me home early?"

"No," Cuddy said, shaking her head. "Not home. You have paperwork that's been due for weeks."

"So if I'm nice every time, do I get to leave early?" House smirked.

Cuddy sniffed. "Don't press your luck. Just get me those reports by tomorrow morning."

House pursed his lips. "But I didn't get to make anybody cry yet…"

"Shoo!" She motioned with her hands.

He leaned into her in the doorway. "If I'm a good boy for the rest of the week, do I get a spanking?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. House limped past her. Her gaze followed him down the hall. "In your dreams, House," she murmured.

House sat down at his desk. He had the earbuds from his ipod in his ears, and he hummed under his breath as he surveyed the stack of forms on his desk.

Stacy stood in the hallway outside his office. She smiled as she watched him. She bent down and picked up a box that was sitting next to her in the hallway.

She walked in and sat the box down on the chair in front of his desk.

He didn't look up.

"Hey," she said warmly.

He looked up at her. She was smiling.

"What are you listening to?" She asked.

"James," he said, and purposefully flipped over a paper and pretended to read.

"James?" She said, perplexed. "Wilson?"

He sighed, annoyed. "The _band_ James. _Laid._ Ring a bell?" Stacy's smile deepened slightly. He eyed her with cold appraisal. "Actually what with darling hubby in the hospital it probably doesn't. Did you need something?"

Stacy's smile vanished. "Touché," she said curtly. "Still in a bad mood because of that case?"

"What? Did they post a write up on the bulletin board? Did you stop by to bask in my aura or am I being sued again?"

Stacy sighed. "I came by," she said, "because I have a box of your stuff that was in the basement. Mark wants it out of the house." She gestured at the box.

He smiled humorlessly, "Afraid that you're sneaking down there in the middle of the night to smell my old shirts? How very insecure."

"No shirts, just some books that got packed up by mistake when I…" her voice trailed off.

"The word is _left_. Jumped ship, got the hell out of Dodge." He sat up. "Is that my copy of _Walden_?"

"Yeah," she tossed it to him.

He looked up at her. "Any idea how long I've been looking for this?"

She snorted. "You probably thought it was still on the shelf."

He ducked his head in admission. "Yeah," he muttered. "It's so good to see you here. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy." The sarcasm rolled of his tongue fluidly. "You could have left these here while I was gone."

"Maybe I wanted to talk to you," Stacy said defensively.

"So I hear," he sighed.

"Ah," she said. "Your friend's looking out for you again?"

He narrowed his eyes. "As much as it pains you to admit it, there are people who care about me for some misguided reason or another Stacy."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "That is not fair. You know I care about you."

"Funny way of showing it." He didn't meet her eyes. Didn't want to see the emotion there.

Stacy leaned across the desk. "You," she hissed, "can be a real son of a bitch sometimes."

Anger. Anger was good. He knew anger. He could deal with anger. He smiled sarcastically. "I thought that was part of my charm."

Stacy moved the box onto the floor and sat down. "Why did you say yes?"

"To what?"

"If you are so damned uncomfortable with this, why did you agree to me working here."

He looked deep into her eyes. "I guess," he said softly, "I didn't want you to have the satisfaction of me saying no."

"Is that the only reason?" Stacy said, the disappointment evident in her voice.

"Yeah," he said. "You're the one who wanted this."

"What is _this_?" Stacy pressed.

"You'll have to tell me," House said. He heard movement in the conference room. Chase, Cameron and Foreman all walked in. Ahh, the perfect excuse. "Never mind. My team is here. We have work to do."

Stacy glanced over and saw three sets of eyes watching her. She briefly locked eyes with Cameron. Cameron blushed, in spite of herself, and looked away.

"Right," Stacy said. "We'll discuss this later."

"I doubt it," House muttered.

Stacy glared at him. "Fine," she said, "whatever you want." She turned and walked out, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume and sublimated anger in her wake.

House set his jaw and picked up a few pieces of paper. These small skirmishes with Stacy were beginning to wear on his nerves.

Wilson, as usual, was right. At least where women were concerned. _Damn him anyhow_.

He heard someone clearing their throat, and looked up to see Cameron standing there.

Cameron and Stacy were, at first glance, extremely different. While Stacy had an assertive personality, Cameron appeared more subdued and empathetic. However they both had one thing in common. House. Whether he wanted them or not.

"Dr. Cameron," he growled. "I'm not exactly up for sunshine and lollipops right now." If he upset Cameron, she would also leave him alone.

"Relationship troubles?" Cameron said dryly.

This new aspect of her personality was troubling to House. Cute and cuddly Allison Cameron was easily manipulated. This bitterness however, albeit somewhat attractive, was an indication that her personality was perhaps not so one-dimensional.

House raised his eyebrows. "And so the claws finally come out. No. That would require _wanting_ a relationship."

"I see," Cameron said. She shifted slightly on her heels. This was not going to be easy. "I just wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning. There was no reason why I needed to call you in for a consult."

This was new.

House adopted a wounded look. "You're saying that you don't _need_ me anymore Cameron?" He sniffed exaggeratedly, "they grow up so fast."

Cameron rolled her eyes, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "However," she said.

"Ah yes, there is usually a however." House said, smiling. He was enjoying seeing Cameron flustered.

She ignored him. "However," she said again. "I appreciate you being there. Thank you." She said the last part slowly and deliberately. The words stung House. "I was having a hard time, and you made it easier." She looked down, not wanting to meet the piercing blue eyes.

House took a deep breath. Any sarcastic retorts that he had planned died away with those two words. _Thank you_. "Dr. Cameron," he said seriously. Cameron looked up, surprised at his tone of voice. "While I do agree that you should be able to handle most cases on your own, there are exceptions." He sighed. "A wise man once said there was no harm in asking for a consult."

Cameron smiled. "Dr. Wilson," she said.

House nodded. "Yeah."

Cameron glanced down at the box on the floor. "Moving?" She asked curiously.

House rolled his eyes. "Stacy is finally returning some of my stuff. Typical girlfriend, you know, borrows your shirt and then you never see it again till after they leave."

Cameron ignored the last part. "I didn't know you played guitar," she murmured.

"It's pronounced _piano_," House grumbled. "Remind me to get you Hooked on Phonics. Worked for me."

Cameron narrowed her eyes accusingly and held up a song book. _The Essential Bob Dylan for Guitar_.

House stared at it blankly for a moment. Then he remembered. "Oh shit," he groaned.

Cameron looked at him questioningly.

"That's Wilson's," House said sheepishly. Wilson had accused House of borrowing the book years ago. House had angrily retorted that Wilson's current wife had most likely thrown it in the trash.

"Dr. Wilson plays guitar?" Cameron marveled.

House rolled his eyes. "Of course. Chicks dig the guitar. I think wife # 2 broke his. Don't know if he ever bought another one." House thought for a moment. "I'll have to ask him that. Do you think that you could take that to his office?"

Cameron started. "Aren't you going to take them there yourself?"

"Nah. He's just going to say 'I told you so', and you're cuter. Only slightly."

Cameron flipped through the box and found another guitar book. "Nirvana," she said in amazement.

"Dammit," House muttered. Wilson was never going to let him live this down.

Cameron smiled. "You want me to tell him anything?"

House shrugged. "Tell him that Stacy did it." He said simply.


	9. Chapter 9

Cameron walked down the hallway studying the books. She had heard rumors that House was an accomplished pianist, but somehow her mind could not get around the idea of Dr. James Wilson playing Dylan, or worse yet, Nirvana, on the guitar.

She stumbled while rounding a corner, and an envelope fell out of one of the books. She picked it up. It was full of photos. She stared at it for what seemed an eternity. Should she open it? Dying though she was of curiosity, Cameron also felt the slightest trickle of fear. What if it was pictures of House and Stacy? Did she really want to open old wounds?

Or… what if they were pictures that put House in a compromising position. _Dear God. What if he's naked!_ The corner of Cameron's mouth twitched upwards. Privacy be damned. She opened the envelope.

The first picture was slowly pulled out of the envelope. Cameron stared at it for a few seconds, eyes widening. She looked around and then decided to seek refuge in the women's restroom.

The first picture lay flat on the guitar books that Cameron had laid on her lap. She studied it. It was Wilson. He was sitting in a chair next to a window. He was playing the guitar. Cameron marveled at how different he looked. The normally neat hair was tousled, and the white lab coat and tie was replaced with a faded band t shirt and well worn jeans. He had the merest hint of stubble on his cheeks. She glanced at the date of the picture. 10-06-98. Nearly 7 years ago.

She flipped to the next picture and her stomach lurched. It was House.

Although it was only 7 years earlier, he looked nearly 20 years younger. The hair was still close cropped, but darker. He was wearing an AC/DC shirt. "I think he was wearing that same shirt the other day," Cameron whispered. He was sitting at the piano, playing, with a faint smile on his lips. Unlike Wilson, he was clean-shaven. It almost made him look… "He looks goofy," Cameron giggled. Her smile became wistful. Goofy, but happy.

She turned to the next picture. Wilson had one foot on the piano bench, resting the guitar on his leg. He and House were laughing. She noticed a few beer bottles in the background.

She flipped through the rest of the pictures, there were 8 in total. One of them portrayed House standing up at the piano, eyes closed, mouth open in the middle of a song. Cameron focused on his legs. This was before the infarction. Suddenly the giddiness faded, and a faint sorrow filtered in.

There was another picture of House and Wilson. House was playing and Wilson was standing there, holding the guitar, and watching his friend. Cameron studied the two figures. No one knew exactly how long House and Wilson had been friends. The fact that House could relate enough to another human being was somewhat unbelievable in and of itself.

She slowly shuffled through the pictures again. Friends. Why was it that House was such a miserable bastard and he still had friends. Cameron sighed. Now was not the time to wallow in self pity. "Besides," she said to herself, "we're going out tonight. So I have friends too."

Putting the pictures back in the envelope she prepared to shove them mindlessly back in the guitar book. Then she paused. Standing up in the stall, she bit her bottom lip. "This," she said softly, "is a bad idea." And she slipped the envelope into her lab coat.

She glanced in the mirror on her way out. Same old Allison.

Dr. Wilson's office was down the hall. She knocked timidly on the door.

"Come in," came the voice from behind the door.

Cameron opened the door and stepped into the office. Wilson brightened visibly. "Dr. Cameron," he said warmly. "What can I do for you today?"

"House," she said quietly. "He uh, sent these to you." Cameron held out her hand with the guitar books in them.

Wilson looked perplexed, and took them from her. "What are these… hey!" He stood up from his desk. "I knew it! I knew he had them. Jeez he's had these for _years_." Wilson suddenly remembered that Cameron was standing in his office. He looked at her guiltily. "Sorry, I just…"

She shook her head. "He says it was Stacy's fault." She was smiling.

"Of course he did." Wilson tossed them on his desk, and sat back down.

"So," Cameron said shyly, "you play guitar?"

Wilson studied her. "I used to. My guitar got damaged in a move. No real time to practice anymore anyway." He was always unsure how to act around Cameron. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. But she was House's. One way or another.

She smiled. "You should buy a new one."

Wilson grinned. "Oh I don't know. I haven't played in years."

Cameron looked at him solemnly. "Some things are worth taking the time for, Dr. Wilson. Some things you just don't give up on."

"Some things," Wilson said softly, "and some people."

Cameron flushed. "I wouldn't know about that."

Wilson nodded. "Do you play an instrument?"

Cameron's blush deepened. "I played flute from the fifth grade all up through undergrad." She smiled ruefully. "I was never very good."

"Why did you stop?" Wilson asked.

Cameron shrugged. "Life got in the way."

"Yeah," Wilson said. "It usually does. I heard about your case. Good job on picking up on that. Stacy talked to the mother and they are going to press charges against the creep who did that to her."

Cameron sat down in the chair in front of Wilson's desk. "Wow. Good." She looked down. "And the baby?" She murmured.

"I have no idea." Wilson said. He flipped through the songbooks with nostalgia.

"Dr. Wilson?" Cameron said suddenly.

Something in the tone of her voice made him look up.

"What?"

"Why did Stacy and House break up?" As soon as she asked, she was shocked that the words had come out of her mouth. _What are you doing?_ She took a deep breath and stared into Wilson's brown eyes.

Wilson's eyebrows rose. "I guess," he said softly, "life got in the way. You'd have to ask Stacy to be sure."

Cameron nodded. "That's all right. Anyhow, you have your books. You should go get a new guitar and practice. You might even play in the oncology ward. For the kids." She looked pale and drawn. And even behind the smile Wilson could see that she was breaking.

Wilson smiled. "Right. That would be nice. We could do a duet for flute and guitar."

"Only if you can play 'Ode to Joy'. That's about all I remember." Cameron smiled. "Or anything from 'The Sound of Music'."

Wilson laughed. "Oh God. I can't picture the two of us launching into 'Doe a deer'."

Cameron laughed harder at the thought. "You'll have to sing. My mouth will be busy." She realized what she had said and giggled.

Wilson flushed a little and looked at her. The image of Cameron's busy mouth was desperately trying to fill his mind with nasty little thoughts. _Easy there…House will kill you…_

"Playing the flute," she grinned.

"Yeah. Flute." His blood pressure had gone up.

"Maybe House would play piano?" Cameron said lightly.

House. Right. His pulse slowed a little bit. "He might. He's good."

"I wish I could hear him play," Cameron said.

Wilson looked at her for a moment. "Dr. Cameron," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"Are you still… interested in House?" His brown eyes were staring right at her.

Cameron heard the question. She took a deep breath and exhaled. She sat up straight in her chair and fixed steely green eyes on soft brown ones. "Not in the slightest," she said dryly.

As soon as the words left her mouth, the same thought occurred to Wilson and Cameron. And as a look passed between them, they knew the truth.

_Everybody lies_.


	10. Chapter 10

Wilson walked into House's office at 3:30 waving the music books in front of him like a banner. "You, my friend," he said, "are an idiot."

House eyed him acerbically. "Stacy did it," he muttered. "And if you are here to gloat, you're wasting your time. I have to get this charting done."

Wilson shook his head and sat down. "I don't even own a guitar anymore. You're an idiot for another reason."

House sighed and set his pen down. "I can see you're dying to tell me," he snapped. "So spill whatever juvenile dribble you have and then let me finish."

Wilson looked hurt. House slumped his shoulders. "What is it?" He asked in a softer tone.

"Juvenile dribble?" Wilson said, arching an eyebrow.

House sighed. "If I don't finish this charting Cuddy will have my balls on a silver platter."

"Fine," Wilson said. "I guess I shouldn't be interrupting you when you're being responsible."

House looked down at the charts. "Dammit. You're right, what the hell was I thinking? I'll have Cameron do this tonight."

Wilson was aghast. "You wouldn't!"

House grinned wickedly. "Watch me. Besides, she's not doing anything anyway. It's Monday."

Wilson smiled. "She might be," he said suggestively.

Instantly House's demeanor changed. "Meaning," he said, his voice as cold as ice.

"Meaning, she may have something to do." Wilson leaned back in the chair. "You're an idiot."

"I'm an idiot because of Cameron?" House asked.

"Yes. My God she's beautiful."

House rolled his eyes, but hesitated before responding. "This again?"

Wilson nodded. "She plays flute."

House squinted dangerously at Wilson. "She plays flute?"

"At least she used to, in college."

House closed his eyes briefly. In a flash, he could picture Cameron sitting down, perfect posture, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her beautiful little mouth puckered over… _Enough of that_… he thought.

Wilson smirked. "I wonder if she went to band camp?"

House shrugged. "Depends on the school she went to."

"No House. _Band camp._ As in 'This one time… at band camp…' Remember?"

House pursed his lips to keep from smiling, but Wilson knew that as soon as he left, House would be grinning like the Cheshire cat. Instead, he put on his most withering face and glared at Wilson. "I find it unnerving that you're fantasizing about my staff in such a manner."

"Your _staff?_ No. Chase and Foreman do _nothing_ for me." Wilson said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You only have eyes for me, eh Jimmy?" House said dryly.

"Go to hell," Wilson said good naturedly, giving House the finger. "Let's go out to eat."

House chuckled. "Julie cooking again?"

Wilson hung his head glumly. "Yeah," he said.

House shook his head, resigned, he suspected that a poorly cooked meal was only part of the story. "Why not? Stop by at 5:30. I should be done by then."

Wilson nodded. Then glanced at his watch. "Damn, I have a patient in 10 minutes. I'll be back after 5."

House looked down at his charts and waved a hand at him. "Whatever."

As soon as Wilson left the room, he leaned back and smiled. Allison Cameron at band camp. That was too good to waste. Sighing a little he bent down over his work. After scratching his signature onto a few forms, he let his eyes drift over to the cardboard box that was on the floor at the end of his desk. Stacy had played clarinet in elementary school. She hated every minute of it and quit as soon as her parents allowed her to. Cameron had continued to play even in college. That said something about their personalities.

Unfortunately, House mused, he had no idea what.

Chase and Foreman caught up with Cameron looking over some forms. "My last patient is at 4:30." Cameron said with a sigh. "What time are we leaving?"

Chase and Foreman consulted the schedule. "My last one is at 5:30." Foreman said.

Chase nodded. "Mine too."

Cameron glanced at her watch. "Good, that will give me time to run an errand and then we'll meet back here at 5:30."

Chase raised his eyebrows. "Errand?" He said questioningly.

Cameron fixed him with a stare. "I have to go to the drugstore," she said, daring him to question her more.

"Ah," Chase looked down shamefacedly. "All right then. I don't want to know."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "For godsakes Chase, you're a doctor." She grabbed the chart and strode into the waiting room. "Kelly Springer?"

Foreman gave Chase a hard look. "Smooth."

"Shut up." Chase said miserably.

"And no one is to say that she went there for _that_. It could be something else." Foreman said.

"Like what? Condoms?" Chase muttered.

"You wish koala-boy." Foreman said with a grin.

"Oh fuck off!" Chase said and sighed. He went into the waiting room and looked around. "Bill Carman?" He asked without any enthusiasm.

Cameron pulled up to the drugstore at 4:53. She looked at her watch. This couldn't possibly take more than a few minutes. She got out of the car, locked it, and strode inside unable to shake the feeling that she was making a mistake. A big mistake.

The clerk at the photo counter smiled pleasantly at her as she pulled out the negatives. "With our new machine you can scan the negatives, print them out and do all sorts of neat things," the young man said enthusiastically.

Cameron smiled politely. "So if I wanted to print these out in sepia tones…"

"Not a problem. Watch," he inserted a strand of negatives, pulled up one of the pictures on the screen, and pressed a few buttons.

Cameron nodded, impressed. The photo, one of House at the piano, was cropped, centered, and now shaded in rich warm sepia tones. The clerk printed it out and held it out to her.

"Pretty wild huh?" He said smiling.

Cameron held the picture in her hands. _This is a mistake_. She thought again. She smiled and murmured that it was amazing what technology could do.

"So is that your dad?" The clerk asked. "He looks like…"

Cameron's cold stare cut him short.

After making three copies of the photos, she briefly went into the household items aisle of the store. There she found exactly what she was looking for. 2 mahogany picture frames with cream matting and slots enough to hold each of the pictures. She picked them up, along with two padded mailers.

She paid for everything and sat in the car looking at her purchases. It took a few minutes for her to peel of the price stickers, and take the backing off of the frames. Her hands were shaking slightly, and she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

With renewed resolve she quickly arranged the pictures. One for House, one for Wilson. Each respective doctor's own picture was in the center, the larger one. For Wilson, she had chosen the picture of him by the window. For House it was the picture of him at the piano smiling. Smaller pictures of each doctor either alone, or with each other framed the larger one.

She surveyed the pictures and shook her head. _This is crazy. It makes me look like a damned stalker_. She thought. Then, she placed each frame inside a mailer and sealed it. The third set of pictures, the ones she told herself that she bought in case the other two were damaged somehow, she put in her glovebox. Out of sight, out of mind.

She bit her lip and looked at the mailers next to her. With a sigh of defeat, she backed out and drove back to the hospital, unable to shake the feeling that there were times when people's actions were outside of their control.

She put both mailers inside her locker. It was 5:15. She sat down at the conference table and waited. House, absorbed in paperwork, didn't even notice she was there.

At 5:20 Wilson strolled into the office. He glanced through the window and noticed that Cameron was sitting down at the conference table. House was finishing what appeared to be his last piece of paperwork. He dropped his pen on the desk and looked up in triumph. "Finito!" He said contentedly. "Ready to go?"

Wilson nodded, somehow heartened at the fact the House appeared to be in a better mood. "Sure thing. Want to invite the good Doctor?"

House, who was rummaging through his desk for a bottle of vicoden, looked up and furrowed his brow. "I thought I was the only _good_ doctor around here." He said.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Cameron, you ass." He spoke in hushed tones, afraid that she would hear him.

House surveyed the seated figure thoughtfully. "Maybe not tonight," he said. "After all, you said she was busy."

Wilson sighed, "I was kidding, she…" his voice trailed off as Cameron answered her cell phone.

"Yeah? Okay sure, I'm ready when you are. Should I call the cab or are you going to? No that's fine. Okay. I'll see you downstairs in ten minutes." She hung up the phone and suddenly realized she was being watched.

House and Wilson nodded at Cameron, who blushed, and waved. Wilson smiled and waved back. House just stared at her, for an instant Cameron thought he was going to say something, but he just turned and walked out.

Once in the hallway, House whacked Wilson on the back of the knee with his cane. Wilson yelped, but said nothing.

Cameron sat staring at the table. She had to meet Foreman and Chase downstairs in a few minutes. It was now or never.

She went back to the locker, and pulled out the mailers. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to House's desk, and placed it in the middle. Then, she turned and left.

Wilson's office was locked, so she shoved the envelope under the door. It slid under with some difficulty, but she managed. Sighing, she stood up, straightened her coat, and walked outside. What was done was done.

She could only wait and see.


	11. Chapter 11

Wilson and House walked down to the lobby. House leaned over and scribbled his name on the sheet. "5:30, Dr. House signing out!" He turned to go and noted that Wilson was taking his time.

"Move, she might see us!" He said in a stage whisper.

Wilson eyed House. "She's been nice to you today. You have nothing to complain about."

House rolled his eyes. "All the more reason to flee before she changes her mind. Dammit… here she comes!"

Cuddy strolled up to them. "You boys going out?" She said, smiling. In the background a small clot of nurses snickered.

Wilson looked at Cuddy for a long time without speaking. And then he opened his mouth and said "Would you like to come and have dinner with us Dr. Cuddy?"

House's jaw dropped to the floor. He sided up to Wilson and clamped his hand over Wilson's mouth. "He's delirious. I'm taking him to see a specialist."

Wilson pried House's hand off of his mouth in annoyance. "Seriously, why don't you come with us?"

House groaned in the background.

Cuddy smiled. "It's a bit early in the week for that, don't you think?" She said, ignoring House's moaning.

"It's just dinner," Wilson said again, smiling encouragingly. "Come on."

Cuddy eyed the pair for a moment. "What the hell," she said with a shrug. "Let me get my coat."

She disappeared and House pinched Wilson's arm fiercely. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Ouch, dammit. Because she's nice. And she was very sweet to you and Cameron today. And she looks really tired."

House stared at Wilson with piercing blue eyes. "Oh dear God," he said. "Not Cuddy."

Wilson looked at him questioningly. "What? Oh… no, not Cuddy."

House narrowed his eyes. "Good. She's far too old for you."

Wilson opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it.

Cuddy walked towards them, purse in hand. "Who's too old for whom?"

House sneered and Wilson closed his eyes, awaiting the worst. "My car," House said. "She's too old and too delicate for Wilson to drive."

Wilson opened one eye and looked over at House. He exhaled slowly. Crisis averted.

"Fine," Cuddy said. "I'll drive." She walked in front of the two men.

House glared at Wilson, and then paused to admire Cuddy's ass. "For this," he hissed, "you're paying!"

Wilson shrugged helplessly. At times like these he wondered if people's actions weren't outside of their control sometimes. He had no idea how close this thought was to the musings of a young female doctor who just reached the lobby.

Cameron met up with Chase and Foreman. "I've called a cab," Foreman announced. "So where are we going?"

Cameron pursed her lips. "How about Bennigan's?"

Chase and Foreman looked at each other and then laughed. "Bennigans?" Chase said. "The restaurant?"

"No, the shoe store," Cameron said sourly. She didn't really know any other place but the bar they frequented. "I'm hungry. We can't just go drink."

"Oh, but we can," Foreman said with a grin. "Cameron's right. We can't get wasted today. We'll save that for Friday."

Chase sighed. "Fine. But we can't go to Bennigan's tonight. They have some special deal or something. It will be packed. Besides, it's all the way in New Brunswick."

Foreman nodded. "Good point." He studied Cameron for a minute. "Do you like chocolate?"

Cameron broke into a smile. "That has to be the stupidest question I've ever been asked," she laughed.

"So you _don't_ like chocolate?" Chase said, puzzled.

"I take that back." Cameron said, rolling her eyes. "Of _course_ I like chocolate."

"Let's go to Friday's. They have this drink called an ultimate mudslide." Foreman said with a smile.

Cameron looked intrigued. "You've captured my interest, go on."

"Imagine the best milkshake you've ever had…"

"Okay…"

"Then add vodka, irish cream, and coffee liqueur…" Foreman said grinning.

Cameron closed her eyes. "That's good enough for me. Let's go."

Chase looked over at Foreman. "You know for a second when you asked her if she liked chocolate…"

Foreman snickered. "Had that been the case, I would have told you to meet us in the conference room."

Cameron looked back at them. "I can still hear you guys, you know."

Foreman and Chase grinned. "Cab's here," Chase said.

They got inside the cab and drove off.

"So where are we going?" Cuddy asked as the two men got into her car. There had been an awkward moment when no one knew who was going to get in the front seat. House finally shoved Wilson out of the way and pushed the seat all the way back. Wilson sighed and got into the back on the driver's side.

"Bennigan's," House said emphatically.

"That's all the way in New Brunswick!" Wilson said.

"It's fifteen miles you baby," House grumbled. "I want a monte cristo."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Of course. It must be that time of the month." He then realized that he was in the same car as the Dean of Medicine. "Sorry about that," he said hastily.

Cuddy looked into the rearview mirror and winked at Wilson. "Now I understand all of the gossip about you two at the nurse's station."

House smiled and Wilson blanched at the same time. "What gossip?" Wilson said weakly.

House rolled his eyes. "Oh like you don't know. For weeks I kept hearing 'separate or together' behind my back. Let them have their fun." He settled back into the seat of the car. "Turn on the stereo Cuddy."

Cuddy smiled and complied. Somehow it didn't feel as awkward as she had anticipated. Granted there were some things she would never understand, like the dynamic between House and Wilson, but they were comfortable together, and she understood and respected that.

"So, what on earth is a monte cristo?" She said curiously.

House snorted. "Figures that _you _wouldn't know."

"It's a sandwich," Wilson said apologetically.

"Of course," she smiled. "That's all you eat isn't it House?"

"Less speculating on my eating habits and more getting into the left lane. We need to go left on Route 1." House said.

Cuddy nodded. The rest of the drive over was mostly silent, the three of them content to sit back and listen to music on the radio.

She pulled into the parking lot and the three got out. House walked up to the door, not waiting for Wilson or Cuddy. Cuddy looked over at Wilson with raised eyebrows and Wilson responded with a weak smile.

The pair caught up to House as he was verbally assaulting the hostess. "I can _see_ tables in there! Why on earth is there a five minute wait."

The hostess smiled as gently as she could. "Those tables haven't been cleaned yet. We'll do our best to…" She looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

Wilson grabbed House's arm. "Five minutes is great, we'll just sit here." He led House over to the bench by the front door.

Cuddy looked at him and shook her head. "You really are a bastard aren't you?"

House shrugged. "I didn't get to make anyone cry at work today. People might say I'm getting soft."

Cuddy opened her mouth to retort, but the hostess came back. "This way please," she said softly.

They sat down at their table and Wilson prayed that the waiter or waitress was of the understanding sort. He had a feeling that House was in the mood to prove something.

"Hey, I'm Dan, and I'll be your waiter this evening," said a young man that looked to be about 22 years old.

"Monte cristo and a cutty sark and water. Easy on the water," House barked.

Cuddy and Wilson froze and looked at the waiter. The waiter smiled. "I like a man who knows what he wants." Dan grinned. "I'll get your whiskey and give your friends a chance to figure out what they want."

House eyed the waiter, and nodded.

Dan smiled and surveyed the table. "Can I start anybody else out with something to drink?"

"A pint of guinness," said Wilson.

Cuddy looked at the drink menu. "What do you recommend?"

Dan closed one eye and stuck out his tongue, feigning intense concentration. "I'm going to go out on a limb here, but you look like a lady who would appreciate a 'death by chocolate' martini."

Cuddy flipped to the page that it was on and nodded in satisfaction. "Sounds great, thank you."

Dan winked and walked away.

Cuddy picked up the menu. "My god. You ordered that?"

House smirked. "Yeah. It's worth it."

"It's like a… doughnut with meat inside…" Cuddy said.

"And cheese," Wilson said.

"Two kinds of cheeses." House pointed out. "It's turkey. That's healthy."

"Somehow deep frying it and putting powdered sugar on top outweighs the fact that it is lean turkey and ham," Wilson said.

"How's the calamari here?" Cuddy asked.

"Never order Italian food at an Irish restaurant." House said. "That's a known fact."

Cuddy nodded. "I can see that." She flipped through the menu. "I think I'll have the bleu cheese burger.

House brightened. "Thank god. I thought you were going to order a salad."

Wilson smiled. "Fish and chips for me."

"A solid choice," House said.

The waiter came back with the drinks. They each placed their orders.

House sipped his whiskey appreciatively. "Ahhh… nice."

Wilson smiled and sipped his beer. "With our powers combined, we have a boilermaker."

House grinned. "No way, you need to add some Baileys and make an Irish car-bomb."

Cuddy sipped the martini and closed her eyes. "Oh my god," she said with her eyes closed. "I think I'm in love."

She opened her eyes when she felt House's hand on hers. "Gimme," he said. "I want to try."

Their eyes met for an instant, and she released the glass. House took a sip and made a face. "Wow," he said. "Two more of those and we'll have you dancing on the bar topless."

Cuddy nodded. "I already feel light headed."

Wilson looked at her with mild concern. "Have you eaten today?"

She shrugged. "I had something… sometime. I think."

The waiter came with a plate of potato skins. The three of them looked at him in confusion.

"On the house," he said with a smile. "You guys enjoy."

Wilson took a potato and bit in. "These are good. That was weird."

House shrugged. "You don't recognize him?"

"Should I?"

"He worked at Lahiere's for 6 months. Bartender. Used to make a mean white Russian."

Wilson nodded. "Right… I remember now. Nice guy. Ex navy."

"Is that where you usually go?" Cuddy asked, picking up a potato.

"Don't answer that," House said. "She may try and follow us."

Wilson nearly choked on his potato skin.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Right, like I don't have enough to worry about without following you two around."

House grunted and they continued to eat.

The entrees arrived and the waiter brought a diet coke for Cuddy without asking. She made a mental note to leave him a huge tip.

She gingerly cut into the hamburger with a knife and fork.

House rolled his eyes. "For godsakes, pick it up." He grabbed a piece of sandwich and dipped it in the raspberry sauce and took a bite.

"That smells really good," Cuddy said, eyeing the plate.

"Then you should have ordered one," House said, shielding his plate with his arm.

She smiled and shook her head resignedly. After one bite from the burger she sighed contentedly. "This is nice. I can't remember the last time I didn't have a meal that wasn't prepared in the microwave."

Wilson opened his mouth to say something, but House interjected. "As I recall," he said casually, "you were a very good cook."

Cuddy shrugged. "Who has the time? You know the nurses have this casserole exchange. Might be worth a try."

"What the hell is a casserole exchange?" House asked.

"They make enough food for however many are on the shift. Then they each bring in individual portions and trade. They freeze it or something. That way everyone only cooks once a week. Seems very popular."

"Sounds great," House muttered. "Till someone leaves the chicken out overnight accidentally, and then the entire floor has food poisoning."

A flash of panic crossed her face for an instant, then she smiled. "I'll be sure to send them all to you. I know how much you and the nurses love each other."

House glared at her for an instant, and then went back to his food.

Wilson observed the entire scene silently. _House has eaten Cuddy's cooking…_ he thought. _Interesting._

House noted that Cuddy kept stealing longing glances at his sandwich. With a sigh, he cut a triangular wedge off of the remaining piece and handed it to her. "Here," he said with a sigh. "I can't stand to see you moon over it. You're worse than Wilson's dog."

She accepted the piece of sandwich and dipped it in the raspberry sauce. "This _is_ good. Wait, you have a dog?" She turned to Wilson.

He shrugged. "Yeah. My wife bought it."

She nodded. "How is she doing?"

Wilson smiled lopsidedly. "Oh, fine, fine… you know… the usual."

Cuddy got the distinct impression that everything was far from fine, but she nodded and smiled.

"Gentlemen," she said with a smile, "I think some dessert is in order."


	12. Chapter 12

Cameron, Chase and Foreman were ushered to their table. The waitress came up and smiled. "And how are you all doing this evening? Can I start you out with something to drink?"

Foreman smiled. "The lady would like an ultimate mudslide. I think I'll have one too. Chase?"

Chase studied the drink menu. "Why not?"

The waitress smiled and walked away.

Cameron studied the menu. Foreman cleared his throat and she looked up.

"Two rules. One, no talking about work."

Cameron and Chase nodded.

"Two. Cameron has to order a burger."

Chase laughed.

"Hey!" Cameron said indignantly. "That's not fair."

Foreman shook his head. "You can't come here and order something like a salad. Burger, steak, even chicken is OK. No salads. No soup."

Cameron sighed resignedly. "Why not? How are the fajitas?"

After they had ordered, the three sat around in an awkward silence. Truth be told, if they weren't allowed to talk about work, they didn't really have anything to talk about. Cameron studied the items hung on the walls. She had always hated décor like that. It looked like a telekinetic had gotten drunk and decided to decorate the walls with the contents of a thrift shop.

Chase, on the other hand was busy studying Cameron. She was, as his grandmother would call her, a classic beauty. Creamy pale skin, delicate features, beautiful eyes. He had often fantasized about taking her lovely form into his arms and…

Foreman kicked Chase sharply under the table. "You're staring!" He hissed.

Chase reddened and looked down. Cameron snapped back to reality and eyed Foreman and Chase suspiciously.

The three doctors sat for another painful silence, until Foreman spoke up. "So… anybody see any good movies?"

Cameron shook her head. "I wanted to go see _ The Constant Gardener_ but I think it's out of the theatres by now."

Chase nodded. "Harry Potter is coming out soon."

Cameron, who was taking a sip of ice water, snorted. "Harry Potter?"

Chase flushed again. "What? The books are good!"

Foreman shook his head ruefully. "The books are for children."

"Which explains why Chase likes them," Cameron said dryly.

Foreman and Chase stared. "You know who you sounded like just then?" Chase asked.

"No talking about work," Foreman warned. "Where the hell are our drinks?"

As if by magic the waitress materialized with a tray. Three enormous goblets sat on it, whipped cream and chocolate syrup slowly dripping down the side. "I am soo sorry. I thought these had been taken over here already. No charge!"

Foreman nodded curtly. Cameron smiled and took the drink.

The three of them each sampled the cocktail, grateful for something to occupy them, rather than the ponderous silence.

"Wow…" Cameron said after taking a long drink from the straw. "This is… it's better than sex."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "You haven't had any good sex in a long time if you think that this is better."

"Is that an offer, Chase?" Cameron said, wheeling her around to face him.

Any retort that he had slowly melted away, and as usual he was left sputtering idiotically. "I uhhh…"

Foreman held up a hand. "Rule three. No talking about sex."

Cameron chuckled. "So Chase reads J.K. Rowling. What do you read Eric?"

Foreman shrugged. "I was reading _The Life of Pi_. But I lost the book somewhere between here, home, and the gym. So now… nothing really. A few magazines. You?"

Cameron shrugged. "Right now _The Red Tent_. My mother gave it to me for Christmas. Other than that, anything I find interesting."

Foreman nodded. As he opened his mouth to reply, they all heard a familiar sound.

Step-thump, step-thump, step-thump. The sound of someone walking with a cane.

The three heads turned and looked towards another table, where a man walking with a cane was meeting a young girl. For an instant, they all saw House. But it was someone older, shorter. They studied the scene, the older man, scowling. The young prim lady sitting at the table, looking forelorn.

The man with the cane cleared his throat, and the young girl looked up. Her eyes lit up, and she stood up and embraced the older man. "Uncle Ralph!"

"Kitten!" The man said gruffly. "Sorry I was late."

The conversation continued, but the trio had lost interest. They sat at the table. Cameron's heart was racing, and so was Chase's, for another reason.

"For a second I was sure…" Cameron muttered.

Chase nodded. "He's got us all paranoid."

Foreman sighed. "Let's just all talk about work then, since we can't seem to avoid it!"

And it was as if an invisible weight had been lifted. Everyone felt relieved.

"I had the _worst_ day," Cameron lamented.

"Tell us about it," Chase said, sympathetic.

Foreman rolled his eyes.

Cameron slowly went into the details of her memorable patient. The frustration she felt when she realized what was wrong. The horror at the fact that someone could commit such unspeakable acts.

"So what would you do?" Foreman asked.

"About?" Cameron said.

"If it was your daughter. Would you have her keep the baby?"

"No way in hell," Chase said.

"Big surprise there," Cameron muttered.

"It's easier to just have an abortion. Then you don't have to explain things that she isn't capable of understanding anyway. And besides, all the pain involved. Can you imagine how frightening it would be for that girl to go into labor? Not understand what was happening to her? And if she could understand somehow, how would she feel, watching her own child grow up and not be able to really participate in her life."

Cameron was surprised that Chase had a seemingly valid argument. She had expected a trite answer about how it was easier. But she hadn't considered the fact that the daughter couldn't really comprehend anything.

She looked at Chase. "I really didn't stop to consider that Chase," she said. "You have a good point." _He's cute_, a little voice in her head said. _He's cute and he's young and he's **not House**_. She shook her head slightly.

Foreman looked at both of them, unable to ignore the subtle electricity between them. _Great, I'm a third wheel. I'll have to have a talk with Chase about why it's a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. _He turned again to the drink. _Then again, anything that gets her mind off of House may be a blessing._

His train of thought was cut off when the food arrived.

"Thank God," Chase said with a smile. "I'm bloody starving."

"Same here," Foreman said, and began to cut his steak.

"So…" Cameron said, as she delicately layered peppers onto a tortilla. "Friday, should we do this again? Maybe a movie?"

There was a pause, and Cameron's heart hammered in her chest at the thought of rejection. But Foreman and Chase nodded.

"Sound's good," Chase said around a mouthful of food.

"Man," Foreman said. "Didn't your mother teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

Wilson gave House a sideways glance as he sat in the car. Cuddy had dropped them off at the hospital, and without a word, House had gotten out and walked to Wilson's car. This was, an unspoken invitation to his place, most likely to spend the night. _Doesn't matter_, he thought, _beats sleeping in the office_.

"We should do this again," Wilson said. "It was nice."

"Sans Cuddy of course," House muttered.

"You _liked_ having dinner with her. She even paid for your meal!"

"She _ate_ most of it. And my dessert!"

"She had one tiny corner of your sandwich and a spoonful of brownie and ice cream. You gave her the rest."

"It was contaminated with Cuddy cooties," House growled.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm looking forward to the day you grow up."

"Sure you are. You'll just go all 'empty nest' on me anyhow." House said, and smirked.

Wilson ignored the last comment. The drove on in silence and then he cautiously started again. "So… when did Cuddy cook for you?"

"What?" House said, annoyed.

"At the restaurant you said that you recalled she was a decent cook. When did she cook for you?" He made sure to keep both eyes on the road and sound as casual as possible.

House narrowed his eyes and glanced at Wilson. "Breakfast," he said with a wicked grin. "She makes this quiche that has eggs and sausage and ham and all sorts of things in it. It's good."

"Breakfast…" Wilson said. "You don't mean breakfast as in…"

"As in the first meal of the day. The most important one, if you listen to the quacks on the T.V.."

"You didn't…" Wilson said, horrified and intrigued at the same time.

"Didn't what? Screw Cuddy? Please I have some standards." House sat back in the seat. "Why? Jealous?"

"Confused," Wilson said, deciding to leave the bait that House was laying down. "Why would she cook for you, and breakfast of all things."

"Guilt."

As soon as House said it, Wilson was sorry that he had asked.

"Ahhh… I get it."

"People say that love is a motivator. That's bullshit. Guilt motivates people to do more than love ever could. Lisa Cuddy cooked me breakfast lunch and dinner for 2 weeks while I was in the hospital. I wasn't hungry and she begged me to eat. I told her if she was so damned interested in my appetite, she wouldn't try and force hospital crap on me. The next day she showed up with enough food for me and Stacy."

Wilson was oddly touched at the though of Cuddy cooking. "That was nice. Hey…" realization began to dawn on him. "So all of those bagels with everything that you made me get every morning…"

"I'd trade them to the orderly for things…"

"Things?"

"Remember the time that somebody superglued the drawers shut in Hourani's desk?"

"Jesus Christ Greg!"

House smiled, contentedly. "It was worth every poppyseed my friend. Every damned one."


End file.
